Do You Make Me Proud?

I realized just now that every one of my posts until now has been about ME. Yeah, I know, that's the nature of blogging, right?? No? Ok. Then it's just pathetic.

So setting narcissism aside for a moment I'd like to share a recent experience centered around someone else. How 'bout that?

I visited Regent University in Virginia Beach this week at the invitation of a first-year Theatre graduate student. Diana Coates came to our church at age nine with her mom, Denise. I have had the honor, and I really consider it to be that, to have a small part in her life since then. I watched her grow up, go off to college and now, embark on this new journey.

Through all of this, she has stayed faithful to the Lord.

I met Diana on Thursday evening in front of the Communications Building. From the moment I saw her it was obvious that she was in her element. This was her domain! She gave me an unauthorized tour of the stellar facility that will be her academic home for the next three years. Diana is one of only ten accepted from a pool of hundreds of applicants to Regent's intensive Master of Fine Arts program. From the look in her eyes and the tenor in her description of every room from the experimental theatre to fight choreography room--she doesn't take this opportunity for granted.

So I was there because she and first year students had been invited to a barbecue at the Chancellor's home. They were each permitted a guest. Denise couldn't make it because of work, so I got the privileged nod. When Diana asked if I would come I didn't hesitate. I mean, it was a great chance to check up on her--make sure she was behaving. :)

But really my thoughts ventured to... hmm... theatre department, worldwide Christian television network, potentially deep pockets. In other words, a great Miracle Mansion opportunity!

Like I said, I didn't hesitate. Cleared my schedule and took the drive.

Regent University is one of the most stunning campuses I have ever seen. It is distinctively "Virginia", boasting stately colonial architecture amidst tree-lined knolls and cobblestone sidewalks. Thursday's afternoon, pre-autumn breeze was just deft enough to coerce a stray drop or two from one of the nearby concrete fountains.

And the house. What?!? The spectacular brick mansion that just screamed, "Want me," was flanked on all sides by continuous 6-foot hedges abutting an impressive iron gate. The large driveway--which could accommodate many more vehicles than the four that were there--led to an outdoor, half-radial staircase and stately entrance.

From outside we could see that Matlock was playing on the TV in the study. A brass lamp illuminated a gorgeous bookcase and framed artwork of the Virginia countryside. I was inclined to suspect all of this to be staged so as to create a sense of "homey" perfection for all of us gawkers. Mission accomplished.

We--Diana, myself and 100 others--were directed past that vision of Americana to a side walkway leading to an expansive, football-field-sized, garden of Eden-esque backyard.

Mm. The aroma of pulled pork provided the warmest of welcomes. With faint recollection I've managed to remember fried chicken, cole slaw, potato salad, baked beans, rolls, lemonade, iced tea, apple pie and a dixie quartet playing standards from the deck. I could kick myself for not

being more observant.

The happy eating crowd came to a hush about 20 minutes later as Dr. Pat Robertson appeared on the deck sporting a jogging suit and cowboy hat. He recently underwent heart surgery and was unable to join the party but came out to share a few words and offer a prayer of blessing for the new students.

"Our graduates change the world," he said. His voice echoed in the evening breeze. "You are here to learn how to leave your mark on the culture."

As he quietly returned to the privacy of his home, the band resumed and so did the eating. Too perfect.

We happened to be sitting at the table reserved for the Communications Department. We also happened to be sitting next to the Dean of the Communications Department. We also happened to have Miracle Mansion brochures that Diana had stuffed in her intentionally large purse. Oh yeah.

After my thirty-minute, unplanned introduction of the Project to a very interested University Dean, it seemed logical for him to meet the actual invitee, lol. He had obviously heard of Diana, being the one ultimately responsible for her induction to the program. Now he was able to put a name with a face.

I listened to the two of them converse about her goals and the many opportunities that she would have to hone her craft. The glimmer in Diana's eye had returned as she expressed her desire to learn and develop her gift for God. The Dean listened again with intensity, stopping to compliment her on her early achievements in only a few short weeks at Regent.

"She's really, really good, too!" For some unknowable reason I suddenly felt the urge to break into their already effective conversation with the unsolicited bias of an obnoxious American Idol parent.

We reluctantly left the barbeque, and it was clear to me that Diana had been noticed. Not just for her talent but for her passion and determination.

And, she is already making her mark as a committed first-year student with convictions reflective of her non-apologetic, conservative Baptist upbringing. An extremely rare breed in that beautiful, impressive, but very "not-Baptist" place.

We got to talk for several more hours as I had the special privilege to meet her local "mom," Darlene French. This special Christian lady opened her beautiful home to Diana and her roommate, Erin. Man, I would've killed for a setup like that in college! But as nice as the accommodations were, it is Darlene's spirit and obvious care for Diana that reiterates the fact that God has smiled on this 21-year old kid.

The intended short visit to Darlene's home turned into a three-hour one that included testimonies of God's goodness, singing around the piano and a bit of jealousy over her pristine vinyl record collection. Finally, around 11:00 p.m., I began the 3 1/2 hour drive back home. But that was only after Mrs. Darlene insisted that I lead us all in prayer and standby for a goodie bag packed with PB&Js and other road treasures.

I've made a habit of analyzing the impact of events in my daily life. By the time I reached the Hampton Bridge Tunnel I had outlined the things that stood out about the day. First, I want a house like Pat Robertson's. Ok, that's true, but it wasn't a prevalent thought. :)

My overwhelming impression was simply how proud I am of Diana. So many things that I saw that day convinced me that she is exactly where God wants her to be. The stand that she takes and the passion she exudes made me so thankful to have had a small impact on her life. I texted Denise to tell her that I couldn't verbalize my sense of pride for her daughter's early accomplishments without getting emotional. There are few things more exciting than seeing someone grow up and maintain an intrinsic desire to live for God.

The second thing that struck me was the reality that God honors faithfulness. Even as a single parent, Denise's faithfulness to the Lord was instilled in Diana, and now, Diana is experiencing the rewards. I love it when God's people shatter the notions of stereotypical-ness.

Way to go, D! Do you make me proud? Duh.

"I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth." (3 John 1:4)

After the storm.

I’ve never been in a really bad storm. You know, the Katrina type. Having many friends in the south and almost as many in the Caribbean I can only live vicariously through their experiences. They tell me that going through a hurricane is one of the most horrifying things one can imagine. The indescribable noise, the rumbling and shaking of things that shouldn’t, the destruction and fear of it—it’s pretty much an ordeal that I am happy to have dodged.

On the rare occasion of a hurricane or tornado threat in our area, preparatory warnings and survival instruction are free-flowing. The storm supercedes the news of the day on all the TV channels and at every water cooler. And so the scurry begins to stock up on plywood, batteries, canned goods and eggs. For some, consolation can only be found on an evacuation route leading to safety.

But I have in my “young” life—don’t correct me J—experienced some figurative “storms.” Let me say first that I consider myself to be exceedingly blessed. I have a wonderful family, fantastic friends, the best church in the world, I could go on and on. When I look at what others have endured, the notion that I’ve had a hard life is laughable. Ridiculous. God has been more than good to me. Maybe that’s why storms in my life are so memorable to me—much like the infrequent “real” storms here in our area of the country. And maybe that’s why they are seemingly so hard. I’m not really sure. Maybe I’m just a wimp. Maybe all of the above.

I’ve been through a storm—really recently. There are many reasons why I won’t go into detail, the most prevalent being—it’s none of your business!! Just kidding. The specifics are not important. You might ask, “then why blog about it?” You know, that’s a great question. For me, blogging forces me to think about the situation in a logical way. It’s a form of verbalizing something personal—which is not one of my strong suits. In fact, my inability to properly do that has prompted a storm or two.

Basically, blogging helps. There is no other agenda here.

But I’m getting off point. Like I said, everybody seems to have advice on how to prepare for an actual storm and how to weather it. Similarly there are innumerable sermons, devotionals, poems and songs on how to handle the storms of life. (Even now tunes are going through my head). And trust me. I have read the verses, sung the songs, and prayed the prayers. It still wasn’t easy, but these things sure help. The relevant truth being that God’s grace is so sufficient! How could we survive without it?

But somebody please tell me where the Cliffs Notes are for dealing with the aftermath of the storm. So you made it through. You survived the devastation. But a careful survey of the landscape presents a striking reality. Things like emotions, perceptions and even relationships have been uprooted and strewn all over the place. What was “normal” is not normal anymore. There is a lot of cleanup to be done.

Then, the most candid of all realities sets in. Things will never, ever be the same.

So what do you do? What happens after the storm?

One thing I have learned as someone who is expected to have all the right answers is that I don’t. The more I live, the more I realize how very little I know. I have also found that theory is no substitute for experience. So what I share now is based on two things: my understanding of the Word of God and my own personal, limited and current experience.

First, evaluation. What in the world happened? I think this is important to ask because every trial—whether self-inflicted, not self-inflicted, or something in between—is allowed of God. Sometimes storms are God’s chastening. Jonah’s headline could have read: “FLEEING PROPHET SUBJECTED TO WAVE WHIPPING AND INTESTINAL INCARCERATION.” These are the worst. Basically it’s God taking us to the woodshed. Not fun. Then, there are storms God allows in order to test us and strengthen our dependence on Him. Satan often has his fingerprints all over these. Furthermore, there are those storms that we basically bring upon ourselves, and though God allows them, He might have preferred to teach us in a less turbulent way.

The point is, that there is always something to be learned from the storm. What is God trying to teach me? What is He doing in my life? What is He sparing me from? What should I have done differently?

Without evaluation, particularly of my own actions, the pain and devastation is in vain. Every situation in life—whether good or bad—brings with it a lesson in experience that can’t be gained from a book. And when there are people involved, there is the great likelihood that somebody, perhaps me, coulda-shoulda-woulda done things differently. Such are the often uncomfortable lessons of life.

Second, forgiveness. This is surely a two-way street, as forgiveness is either a request or a responsibility. If I am honest, I’ll probably come to the point where I need to be on the receiving end of this two-way street. “I AM SORRY.” Three rarely used words in our language. I have learned that as soon as I realize that I have done wrong, it’s time to ask for forgiveness—of God and of others. If I don’t do it right away I’ll either talk myself out of it, justify my actions, blame shift or minimize the seriousness of what I’ve done.

Many times the aftermath of the storm requires you to be the forgiver. The Bible tells us,” But if ye do not forgive, neither will your Father which is in heaven forgive your trespasses” (Mark 11:26). I can’t get forgiveness from God if I don’t forgive others. It’s that simple.

By the way, our forgiveness of others is required whether or not it is sought. When I feel wronged, when I feel mistreated and misunderstood, I have the responsibility to forgive even if the “forgivee” doesn’t ask for it or admit wrongdoing. I also must fight—really, really fight—the urge to retaliate or to seek revenge. None of this is easy. But it is right. And it’s the only way to clean up after the storm.

Finally, rebuilding. Too often people fail to recover from the pain and destruction of a trial. Their life remains a permanent picture of devastation. This is more tragic than the storm itself, because God wants to make something good out of bad. Consider Joseph’s life. He was hated by his brothers, yet he still dared to dream. He was thrown into a pit and sold into slavery, but he demonstrated character and scored the dream job. When the boss’ wife falsely accused him and landed him in prison, he maintained his resourcefulness and became a favored prisoner. Eventually he discovered his destiny when Pharaoh chose him to save the world. He had come a long way from his pitfalls. But it wasn’t by accident. In every case he made lemonade. He stayed faithful to God. He didn’t stay down, he got up. And in the end, just like after a real storm, the final product was far better than what he had before the wind even started blowing.

Rebuilding takes work. Again, I’m no expert, but here’s what has helped me on the recovery road:

1. I fell on my face. It was time for a real heart-to-heart with God. Tears had been shed over and over. Forgiveness had been acquired and the requests for grace were abundant. But now it was time to commune. It was time to fellowship with MY God. It was time to fortify the most important relationship in my life. It was time to hover under the shelter in the time of storm. It was time to thank Him for the storm—as hard as that is to do.
2. I got into the Word. Nothing is more comforting than God’s Word. His precious promises, the reminder of His faithfulness, embracing the reality of His goodness and forgiveness.
3. I clung to my most cherished possessions. It is such a mistake to focus on the things lost in the storm rather than on the things that I still have. My amazing wife, my beautiful children, my extended family and my invaluable friendships—they’re all still here! God has a way of augmenting our appreciation for the blessings in our lives. After the storm, my family seems more special than ever. After the storm my friends seem more encouraging. Sure, the loss is really hard. The storm created a painful void. But what remains is priceless and deserves to be loved and embraced more than ever before.
4. I made some changes. This might be the hardest part of the rebuilding process. But it’s not so bad with the realization that change can be good. Sometimes we have to make tough choices, decisions we’d rather not, all for the greater good. This will make us better equipped for the next storm or able to avoid it altogether. We make changes with the faith and assurance that it’s going to be alright. It's gonna be better than alright!

So that’s my post-storm blog. As honest as I can be. Maybe what helped me can help you in the aftermath of your particular storm.

“For thou hast been a strength to the poor, a strength to the needy in his distress, a refuge from the storm…” Isaiah 25:4